Your Sunday letter from the editor

9:07 AM,
Nov. 24, 2013

Written by

When you filled a glass, a battalion of bubbles danced through the water, then quickly dissipated. For 9-year-old me, it was fun to try to count them, or time how long they took to pop.

The water was alluring in another way: It tasted better than what streamed from my house's faucets. Somehow, that taste was more fulfilling, even more comforting, perhaps because I associated the taste with seeing my grandparents. ...